


the descent into hell is full of silence

by biclarisselarue



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, i have many thoughts, seriously what would falling for seven days even be like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biclarisselarue/pseuds/biclarisselarue
Summary: They fall for a long time. Too long. Not long enough.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	the descent into hell is full of silence

They’ve been falling for three days now. At least, Annabeth thinks it’s been three days. Her fingers are at the numb part of the vicious cycle that is clinging desperately around the piece of Percy’s shirt clasped between her hands. Percy, who is currently dozing fitfully with his head tucked into her neck, has his own hands curled loosely around her waist. She doesn’t want to think about what would happen if they got separated, spiraling off away from each other in the dark, so she presses him closer, entwines her fingers together tighter, and breathes in his scent.

It no longer feels like they’re falling. Hasn’t felt like that since the second hour of free fall. It feels like they’re suspended, nothing around them but air and each other, and it could almost be romantic—if it weren’t for that same air rushing past her ears, so loud everything’s gone quiet. Her lips form the words, “I love you,” but she can’t tell if the reason she can’t hear herself is because the sound is ripped away too fast or if she doesn’t actually make the sounds. Annabeth hasn’t heard Percy say anything in the time since he let go of the ledge, but that doesn’t really prove much in the way of either theories. Maybe he has nothing to say to her. She shakes her head, a tiny, aborted motion that stops as soon as Percy stirs against her, and forces herself to not think like that.

“I love you.” Still no sound. Even memories of Percy saying it to her are silent. She can see his smile, the dock they’re standing on, her dagger in his head, but she can’t _hear_ him. 

Did he ever really say it? Again, she shakes her head slightly, this time digging her nails into her palm. No, that’s the weight of this place, this tunnel, dragging her thoughts down just as surely as her body. If not for the familiarity of Percy in her arms, the small smiles she can sometimes feel against her skin, the occasional press of dry lips to her cheek, Annabeth doesn’t know what she’d be thinking at this point.

She can’t feel the sturdy weight of her legs anymore. Logically, she knows that it’s just the feeling of weightlessness, not the actual loss of limb, but it’s still terrifying. If she didn’t have her legs, she would only slow Percy down, and that’s not allowed. Not here. He wouldn’t leave her—she has to take a moment to push away the small thought that maybe he _would_ , revenge for dragging him down with her—he wouldn’t leave her, so she has to be ready to take care of him, just as he’ll take care of her. 

The tangles in her hair will be hell to get out. It’s a trivial, silly thing to think as they plummet to their probable deaths, and Annabeth’s mouth curves upward just slightly. Maybe she’ll shave it all off once they’re through this. _If_ they get through this, the realistic part of her mind whispers, and her fingers tighten around themselves once more. Percy would— she doesn’t know how Percy would react. Probably well. Hopefully well. _If_ he even still wants to be with her, _if_ they even make it out. After all, she’s the reason he’s been falling for three days now, on his way to literal hell, all because he had the rotten luck of having a good heart and loving the wrong girl. 

She shakes her head to get rid of those thoughts, knowing that they’re accomplishing nothing but making Tartarus’ job easier for him, and Percy takes that moment to wake up. The kiss pressed to the underside of her jaw is light, gentle, everything the void around them isn’t. Tears would probably have arose unbidden if they had not already all been forced out by the rush of air around them. 

Percy maneuvers them carefully so his arms are looped around her waist, hands clasped tightly at the small of her back. Her head falls against his chest gratefully, and she closes her eyes.

“I love you,” she says and can almost imagine how it would sound.


End file.
